Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Butchering day...

Always a fun day, I must admit. Butchering day. This year we had 125 chickens to do, and I think it went pretty well. I shall spare you the bloody details, and instead treat you to a poem I wrote on the subject. Enjoy, if you can! ;) (Warning, this poem is not for the faint of heart.  It is a poem on the butchering of chickens.  This is a necessary activity, for those who eat meat.  If you are a vegetarian, please do not yell at me.  I completely disagree with your views, although you are free to hold them.  Our chickens led happy lives, eating and running around on fresh green grass.  Although many chickens died, none suffered. Thank you.)


Bloody Good Fun

The morning dew still shines on the grass
The roar of water filling steel basins
Still fills the air.
It is a day two months in the making.
Bloody good fun.

Our small pleasures For this day are ready.
Spirited coffee,
Dino, King George, and AJ
Crooning in the background.
Bloody good fun.

Iʼm good at what I do, and I enjoy it,
This once a year event.
Bloody good fun.

But now, as I sleep, it continues.
Ears strain for the sound of the choppers
Come to deny our rest.
Feet sore from the cold cement floor.
Nose still filled with the stench.
 Eyes weary from the endless focus;
One wrong cut and bitter green poison breaks
Or worse -- my own blood mixes with that on the table.
Bloody good fun.

My hands feel the most.
Their memory wakes me
As I drift off to sleep.
The feeling wonʼt leave,
The motion continues.
The scrape
The twist
The pull
The warm, oily, softness.
Iʼm good at what I do, and I enjoy it.
Bloody good fun.

A friend having her own "Bloody Good Fun"


Thursday, June 9, 2011

Good-bye, Charlie

    I intended to talk  about the weather today- after all, it isn’t very often that Minnesota has triple digit temperatures, the highest in the country, only to plummet 55 degrees in less than two days.  Unfortunately, my plans were changed this morning, due to the somewhat unexpected death of my dog, Charlie.
    I say somewhat unexpected because I knew two years ago that Charlie wouldn’t have a long life.  He was diagnosed with a heart murmur when he was about nine months old.  The effect it would have was unknown, but it generally meant a shorter lifespan.  He did surprisingly well with it, though.  He never had any of the potential problems like a cough or tiring easily.  Most of the time he could keep up with Dutchess, no problems.  But this morning, it finally hit him.  I noticed he was having trouble breathing, especially when he lay down, and he wasn’t eating.  I called the vet, and they said to bring him in.    I think he wanted to die at home, because he was gone before we got off our road.  It was good in a way - he didn’t suffer much.  He never had to watch everyone running around and wish that he could play too.  He never had problems getting around.  
    It was harder, I think, for my younger siblings, even though Charlie was my dog.  Maybe it’s because I’ve lost pets before.  It’s part of life.  You’re sad, and you miss them, but you learn to be glad for the time you had with them.  I had to loose a lot of pets before learning this lesson.  There were times I swore I would never have another, because it wasn’t worth loosing them.  I know now that it better to have loved and lost than never have loved at all.  These lessons carry through to life, too.  We loose family members and friends, sometimes forever, sometimes just for a while.  Sometimes the loss is expected, and we have time to say good-bye.  Sometimes it comes as a shock.  It can be tempting then, too, to say never again.  It can be hard to try again.  People, like pets, take a lot of work and time.  The more you put in, I suppose, the more you get out of either.  But people, like pets, sometimes don’t care how much you do or don’t do for them- they just love you anyhow, because you are you.  
    I don’t plan on getting another dog right now, because I know I am too busy.  But someday I will have another, and I hope it’s a Newfoundland like Charlie.  Only I will get a female next time, because it will make breeding those awesome Golden Newfie pups a lot easier on the mom.  Until then, I’m sure Charlie will pop up in a few stories and maybe even a poem.  We’ll see.  
    We buried Charlie up on the hill, under a tree, near his daughter, Lucky.  One of my brothers even made him a wooden marker, chiseled in wood.  Maybe we’ll make him another out of cement, too.  He was a big dog, and won’t soon be forgotten.